The Starry Heavens Above Me
by Moonlight M3lody
Summary: "Two things fill the mind with ever new and increasing admiration and awe, the more often and steadily we reflect upon them. I do not seek or conjecture either of them as if they were veiled obscurities or extravagances beyond the horizon of my vision; I see them before me and connect them immediately with the consciousness of my existence." Thirty days of fanworks. Suikovember2019
1. Enlightenment

Prompt #1: Tenkai Star  
**"Enlightenment is Man's Release from His Self-Incurred Tutelage"**  
A/N: This oneshot collection will follow the set of Suikovember 2019 prompts compiled by skidipapafuku and Hawksperch on Twitter. I can't draw, so have words! I own nothing. Title and description came from Immanuel Kant.  
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* * *

"So why wasn't I born under the Tenkai star, Lady Leknaat?"  
"Luc, each of us was born for different reasons. We are but one speck, a tiny drop in the ripples."  
"But the Tenkai could change their fates, as well as everyone around them! Was it not you who told me so, Milady? Why is it so unfair?"  
The blind sage could only watch her disciple sadly as he spat out each word in vehemence. The grand expanse of celestial movements swirled around her, around him, around the world, and she could see them clearly not with her physical eyes but something else far deeper. She knew a lot, she knew nothing, for she was unable to form words of comfort to this distraught young man.

"Each of us has designs in our own fates. Those born under the Tenkai simply possess a greater awareness of their ability to do so."  
Luc sighed. "And what mine dictates? _A guardian_. I have enough of it, waiting."  
"Luc, the stars should merely serve as a guidance. They're never the ironclad truth. That's why even people sharing similar stars could lead such different lives."  
For the first time ever, Leknaat sensed something she had never felt before coming from him: distrust. It was then she realized with a pang of grief that it would be another disaster she couldn't prevent, this time going away with her dear children.

From the corner, little Sarah peeked shyly, unable to pick side. She had been increasingly concerned about Master Luc. He was having nightmares, Sarah was sure of it. (Sarah knew nightmares. Before the makeshift family in the tower, before quiet stargazing and dusting starlores, it was blood and darkness and death until time bleed and blurred and stirred into hazy nothingness). He did not tell Sarah. No one told Sarah anything.

"Then it's time to take fate to my own hands, as you said, Lady Leknaat."  
His eyes were deep well of abyss, filled determination not unlike what the Tenkais Leknaat met before had with them, only darker and more raw. Leknaat tried, but no amount of study, no amount of meditation, no amount of rites was able to fulfill the missing part in Luc's heart. She thought she had taught him well. He absorbed knowledge like a sponge, but that same knowledge now had burdened him so. A man shouldn't be so close to the truth without a proper teacher, and it seemed like she had failed in her purpose.

"Perhaps a day will come where I have to bid you goodbye, Milady."  
Was the pull of fates perhaps a little bit _too strong_? They were but children in the face of power so ancient.  
Leknaat had seen futures, multiple of them, with all the possibilities that might incur. In all of them, she played little part, but a tiny part of her hoped that she still held a bit of a sway for her students.  
She was only human, after all.


	2. Rules

Prompt #2: Best Friend  
**"Rules for happiness: something to do, someone to love, something to hope for"**  
A/N: I've decided not to play the themes straight, or at least use underutilized characters. Because, let's face it, you'll see Riou and Jowy everywhere for this prompt (not that I mind).  
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* * *

"Ah, you're awake. Well, you scared me good, young man."  
"Hush, Mr. Oboro, save that for later. Poor dear, he must have one hell of a concussion."  
Shigure had no problem with darkness. The Nether Gate made sure everyone got so used with that it's second nature to move and act without a shred of light, but usually the darkness didn't _spin_. For a moment Shigure thought he failed another test somewhere between today and yesterday.

Light flooded in to make out two faces, one plump and cheery, the other suspiciously lived-in. He was about a year away from assassination and definitely not in the cramped quarters they used to sleep in. Slowly, very slowly, the world stabilized (about time. Why the hell would it spin?). Then everything came crashing like tsunami on the shores. Shigure jumped out of the bed so fast his whole body ached over and Miss Fuyo spilled a tray of tea, only to tumble over as his feet refused to support him.  
"Sagiri?! Where is Sagiri? Is she safe? Is she... I swear, old man, one scratch on her and you'll..."

For someone who looked like he hadn't been sleeping for years, Mr. Shinatsu sure was nimble. He caught Shigure in time and tucked him back to bed, a feat only made possible by the child's weakened state.  
"Whoa, easy there!"

It was a ferocious, yet amusing sight. Disgruntled, bedraggled, Oboro wasn't sure what word or phrase fit Shigure's current condition. Now that he was sure the kid was safe, he was decently satisfied. In fact, in what he later thought as the most twisted thing ever, such a violent expression brought him joy. Totally an improvement over an impassionate soul he plucked off the organization a year ago.

"Shigure, I'm alright," said a tiny voice from the opposite side of the room, even in all its enunciation.  
Ah, thought Oboro. And there's this.  
The little girl was smiling, as she always did.

Anger dissipated from Shigure's face, and when he spoke next, it was devoid of clear emotion (though Oboro would have recalled it with fondness). "I'm glad. Sorry."  
Her small mouth formed an 'o', her eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you saying sorry for?"  
It was a question Shigure dismissed.

They were tailing this man. A small consignment contract, they said. Perfectly boring, run-on-the-mill affair. Yeah, he should have thought something was amiss when one party felt the need to call for a detective's service. He did his job, but he should have been more careful. Sagiri had had to cover for his mistakes, and she compromised her position. Things turned ugly very fast. All of a sudden he was looking at the wild blue yonder with more bruises than he could admit.

He didn't know whether he should be happy or embarrassed that this peaceful life had dulled his sense as an assassin. He did know that he failed. He turned to Oboro.  
"Whatever became of the case?"  
The one in question scratched his head. "Well..." then he, for some inexplicable reason, put his hand together and made a show of a wide smile. "The good news is the investigation's over. With the culprit boldly launching at you, it's basically a confession."  
That didn't explain what happened, thought Shigure. Someone must have cleaned up the scene and rescued them while he lost consciousness. Sagiri wouldn't kill. They had agreed to keep her away from lethal battles. Mr. Shinatsu couldn't possibly get them out all by himself... right?

Mr. Shinatsu, as he wont to do, was even more cryptic than helpful, pointing him to the goddamn rat as an answer. Deciding he was in no mood for mystery, Shigure looked around to examine the kind of state he was in. Okay, that was some deep cut, but nothing he hadn't survived from before. Bandages, splint. He really was taking some beating then. Miss Fuyo must be the one taking care of him, because these looked way too neat to be Mr. Shinatsu's handiwork.

"Sagiri helped patching you up," said Miss Fuyo. "I almost cut some of your hair when I was at it because the blood was a sticky mess, but she told me you wouldn't appreciate that."  
Sagiri nodded. "Your coat stuck to your wounds." Shigure wasn't sure whether she was really smiling or not, but he wanted to believe he caught sign of mirth in there. That's some silver lining if that's true.  
Speaking of his coat...

Getting where his eyes trailed to, Miss Fuyo shook her head, perhaps bewildered that after a near brush with death he was more concerned with his coat.  
"Oh, yeah... Too bad your clothes are all tattered though... I don't think I can mend them. I'll just make you two some new ones, now that Shigure's getting taller again." "Oh, I know," she gleamed and clapped her hands with glee. I'll make them a matching set! That would be cute, don't you think?"

Then she was off offering Sagiri various designs she could do for them.  
Shigure didn't realize he had been watching for a while until Mr. Shinatsu gave him a light tap on the shoulder, and spoke with a voice barely louder than a whisper, "You've done well. Next time I would make sure to apply better filters on our clients. I suppose it's a bit naive to assume people will behave well in time of peace."  
"I put her in danger," replied Shigure, who couldn't help but sulk a bit, "I'm afraid one day we'll put her in a place where she has no other option but kill someone, old man."  
"That certainly is in my mind."  
An understanding was passed in silence as they saw the girl and the women interacting, awkwardly on one part and animatedly on another. "But I'm afraid I hope you can promise me something too."  
"Huh. What now?"  
"While I get that the two of you are fully capable of taking care of yourselves... I do hope that you'll be more careful in the future."  
"I get it. This is not going to happen again. I promised I would watch over her too. Why are you smiling for?"  
"But you did. And you get angry when you think you failed."  
"Are you seriously being proud of that, Mr. Shinatsu!?"  
Mr. Shigure barked a laugh and left him with a wink. Shigure groaned.  
"I hope one day you'll be comfortable enough to call me Oboro."

His attention was snapped back when he heard his name mentioned elsewhere. Sagiri was shaking her head, looking at him. "I don't know about this... Shigure, what do you think?"  
"Miss Fuyo said I would look good with ribbons."  
He would say Sagiri looked good with a lot of things, but that would be difficult to explain. But come to think of it, it was the first time Sagiri came to him to ask for his opinion. He should make the opinion count, yet he met Sagiri's expectant smile with no reply.  
Fortunately, Miss Fuyo saved him from making that mind-boggling decision.  
"I'm sure you're all hungry after such a day, so... dinner, anybody?"

Sagiri followed her out, offering to help as a courtesy, to which Miss Fuyo turned down because she too needed rest.  
Shigure leaned back to the bed, surprised that despite the long, long day, the hardest decision for him to make was what compliment to pay to his friend. Who was offering to set the table. To someone who cooked them dinner. Hearty one, given the smell wafting into the room. It was awfully domestic and a hundred percent scary. At first, he thought nothing of Mr. Shinatsu when he took them out of the organization, then he met his words with skepticism. No one escaped Nether Gate. However, these days, he was giving them a run for their money.

Maybe someday he really would be comfortable enough to call Mr. Shinatsu the name he wanted. After all, the old man wanted out from that life too. Maybe someday he would be able to tell Sagiri he liked her real smile, and maybe someday he could wipe the damn smile for all the times she didn't really want to.

Hope was a dangerous plaything, reserved only for those in the light, but perhaps there's hope for them yet.


	3. Beauty

Prompt #3: Castle  
**"The beautiful may be small"**  
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* * *

"Brother, it's so nice to be able to walk with you again!" Such exclamation colored the fine evening Ceras Lake Castle was having, a rare occassion these days as the inhabitants had largely finished moving out following the end of the war. Princess Lymsleia Falenas, however, was indignant that she would like to visit the castle her brother had built his army in before they sunk the ruins to the bottom of the lake. Once the humdrum in Falenas, along with steady stream of paperworks, ceased a little bit, the prince was seized in his room at dawn. The prince himself was only so glad to indulge in his little sister's whimsy, for he himself had to deal with countless meetings regarding various restoration projects, often whisked out of town for days.

As Lymsleia pointed and commented on various buildings and facilities of Ceras Lake (or what remained of them), Freyjadour added stories of his own. Away, sitting on the turrets at the highest vantage point of the castle, their two bodyguards patiently waited (along with occassional, "Oh, princess..." with Miakis supplying most of the cooing). Lyon looked at the drawbridge where many of them almost died a few months prior, feeling a tinge of apprehension. It seemed like so long ago, yet this quiet, peaceful, normal day was also jarring. She was often kept awake at night, not quite believing the battle was over, the nightmare was not real, and she was very much alive.

Yet the scene unfolding before here was one she could recognize from days of yore. The princess, her garb twirling as she skipped around the place as a ten year old she was, speaking so fast Lyon couldn't quite catch. The prince, laughing along as he strolled with ease, ever serene. They disappeared from view as they descended underground, and the next time they emerged the princess was raving about the fishes. They probably went to Shun Min's pond. Miakis threw a comment about introducing Byakuren to the princess later on, delighted in the confidence that she would leap in fright at once.

"She is only the princess for ten more days, would you imagine?"  
"She would have the prince now, and all of us."

The castle was the proof of a man who sought to protect his family at all cost, and a stronghold to all people who sought to protect the man. Perhaps it was only most fitting to have that closure here.  
Below, the prince made the princess a flower crown, declaring her to be Queen to the castle. Lyon thought it was the picture she needed to finally have a restful sleep, something to hold onto when all seemed lost.


	4. Rich

Prompt #4: Favorite  
**"We are not rich by what we possess but by what we can do without"**  
A/N: I generally am not a fan of "someone's identity being defined by their romantic partner" trope, but I think in this case Hix-and-Tengaar has always been Hix-and-Tengaar ever since forever, and their arcs are too tightly intertwined with one another.

* * *

Hix tend to consider himself a simple man. His favorite time of day was the noon, where it's warm enough to sleep in or train casually. His preferred environment was one not too crowded and not too vacant. He wanted a life not too obsessed with certain goal, but picking up leisurely appreciation of the world as he went on exploring. While certainly not to the extent of some of the more recurring patrons of the library, he secretly held fondness to books, enjoying the tales of ancient legends an heroic adventures often more than being involved in one himself. What he liked the most was curling up in a good day with a freshly borrowed one out of the library, though he'd have to be careful in finding a place to hole in. While the castle's various array of inhabitants had placed in them tolerant disposition towards others, he'd still be embarrassed to be found by anyone with a relation to the village. Such a passive activity, afterall, wasn't seen as favorable in Warrior's Village. Go out, they would say. See the world on your own. Have some initiative.

There's no question while he was still on his trial of manhood at the age of twenty. Other people his age had brought back triumphant reports of various deeds and exploits across the land as Tengaar (rather unsuccessfully) dragged him from one quest to the next. He'd never questioned the village's principle, though every now and then he wondered whether he was fit for the village. He certainly didn't like fighting very much, there's little point to battle most of the time. That's not to say he'd be hesitant to use his sword whenever it became necessary (though how much help he would be was questionable). The war before, the war now... it's just going to be more wars in the future. There must be a better way to solve things. Once, twice, in late night conversations when he joined Flik and Viktor at the tavern, he couldn't help but admire Flik who'd seem to forgo his own Trial in favor of finding himself a place in the world with his own terms. Flik was only seven years his senior, but that was a confidence he hoped he'd be able to build (Flik had cheerfully told him he had his doubts. It's just hard to see that someone you looked up to was once in your shoes). While Flik's brand of justice and modus operandi as a mercenary might not sit especially well with the elders back in the village, there's no doubt whatsoever that this man was a respectable warrior.

He'd never told this to anyone, but joining the war (and the last) relieved him because it felt like settling down for a change. They had a place to return to, if only temporary (even if the castle was loud and packed, with people coming and going and talking and selling every single way, and the pressure to train was higher than ever). They'd been on the road chasing the rainbow with not so much as a plan. Helping a good cause was an icing to the cake. People here, plenty of them, provided him nourishing talks and amusing exchanges. It was a buffer he needed as he figured this whole 'warrior' business out. And hey, warm bed, actual blanket.

When they infiltrated Green Hill Academy, Hix couldn't help but wonder whether he would do better as a scholar rather than a swordsman.

So it sometimes felt out of place to be here, in the dojo late till night, training to the point his whole body ached and sore. To have a single focus one one goal. To think of a war as a vacation was brazenly foolish, yet whatever it was it would be over very soon. He had no plan to perish in near future, and he still wanted to protect Tengaar no matter what. After all, for all his doubts and indecision, it was never a question what the most important thing in his life was.


	5. Humanity

Prompt #5: Army

**"Act in such a way that you treat humanity at the same time as an end"**

A/N: Shoutout to skidipapafuku (because I can't reply you directly). Thank you for reading, and hey, news travels fast! I read a fanfiction years and years ago detailing a conversation between Mathiu and Leon, and I liked it a lot. Sadly I can't remember the title or the author. An author who wrote a lot of Mathiu-centric fic was K'Arthur, I think, but it wasn't him.

* * *

Mathiu had not set foot on these soils for the longer part of ten years. He had not planned to ever return, because even if nothing was left but rotting planks and overgrown walls, he swore the smell of cinders and burning flesh could still haunt him miles away in Seika. A change of heart was in order as two things came to happen: first, his young liege's surprise announcement of some new arrivals to the castle he claimed were found in this city (not quite abandoned, contrary to his belief), one of them being his own uncle. When he gave the letter to master McDohl, he was not sure what he expected, though perhaps his uncle actually joining was not far-fetched given the state of the war. He never changed, that principle of his, and while that maxim would never sit well with Mathiu, he couldn't bring himself to truly hate the man. There were many different mindsets to latch on, and no one could say he was on the path of righteousness. No. What drove him to the edge was when he heard his uncle had spent his times in this city he cold-bloodedly destroy just because he liked _the silence_. Two was his worsening condition as of late. He was no physician, but it took no genius to tell his days were numbered. It would not do for him to face death without at least confront the proof of his sin head on.

He had met the recruits aside of his uncle, personally delivering his much belated apology and grief. All of them appeared to be surprised to see a man of his standing bowing so deeply, but it was all the reason for Mathiu to feel the weight of his actions. He was in the place of making difference. (His uncle stayed in the corner the whole time, saying nothing. His face betrayed nothing. It was only after everything was said and done he personally commented that Mathiu had gone too soft, that he would regret his inability to truly protect people who mattered. The comment held water, but of little weight, for he was no longer the fresh-faced scholar under his tutelage. There should be no _people who mattered_. _Everyone_ should have mattered.)

It took him all this time, and the help of one tenacious little sister, to truly see his way. He could still remember the days following Liberation Army's establishment, when Odessa made a point to visit him every single day, trying to recruit him to her cause. He would humor her with small talks, lunches, but never a definite answer to help._"What do you think an army is?"_

_"A group of people mobilized to protect a cause they believe in."_

_"And what do you think protect means?"_

_"Not letting harm done on what you wish to protect."_

_"Close, but not quite."_

_"And what, dear sister, do you think the answer is?"_

_"I'll let you guess, **Master Mathiu**. After all, you **are** the strategist."_

He felt like he finally knew the answer Odessa was seeking.

When he left the village many hours after, accompanied by Apple who'd come to fetch him out of worry, he had a sense of peace washing over him along with Kalekka's eternal rain, one that he had forgotten over many, many years. Finally, finally, he could return to his sister without shame, and perhaps this time she would be proud. He was going to finish what she started. Flawlessly. Then the country would be left in the hands of people he trusted, she trusted, and the people trusted in, who would fight their way and back to make sure no one else would suffer. He had no doubt Scarlet Moon had much to see in the future. His only regret would be not being there to see how the path forward would take shape. That being said, he'd seen enough anyway.


	6. Peace

Prompt #6: Together

**"For peace to reign on Earth, humans must see the whole first"**

A/N: To everyone wondering what happens to "A hundred pieces of heaven", if there's any... it's not dropped. I simply don't want to release it until I've ironed out the kinks. The alpha version is still available from the #KuchuSanto/#AirSanto tweet, tho. (If you don't know what they are, check them out because a slew of fanworks goodies will welcome you).

* * *

A string of notes held high before fading into an awe-stunning silence, marking the end of the concert. The crowds erupted, throwing cheers and ovations to the three performers who were politely excusing themselves out of the stage. Somewhere in the back of the audience seat, a short-haired woman stood, dragging her two companions with her. "Quick," she beckoned, animatedly pointing to the back door. "We can still catch up with them."

The three found the musicians as they headed back to their lodgings. While initially surprised, the vocalist returned the young woman's embrace with a bashful smile.

"Miss Nanami! L-leader! And... and... is this your friend? Thank you so much! We don't know you're around!"

The two musicians exchanged handshakes with the two men.

"That's beautiful. That's truly beautiful," said the sandy-haired man Annallee couldn't recognize. When he spoke though, he sounded as if he had been around for a very long time, sad and solemn at the same time.

"Thank you," replied Annallee. Then, as if she was gathering courage, she glanced at the two musicians, who gave her encouraging winks.

She took a deep breath. "It's all thanks to the army, and you, General Riou."

"I believe in music. There's so much conflict happening simply because we fail to understand one another."

"I- I want to change it! If only... if only people would listen a bit... perhaps we could save at least a life."

"There's only so much three people can accomplish, but I believe one day we'll make it."

It was the longest speech Riou had heard from Annallee, who'd normally spoken little when she's not singing, but he appreciated it all the same. She seemed to have this determination bottled for a long time, and he was suddenly thrown back to the nights he would find her dusting the hall alone after all the soldiers had gone asleep, mending clothes with Yoshino, or in the kitchen with Hai Yo. She'd told him she was afraid to be a bother, that she couldn't do much other than singing, but she didn't know what Riou knew. She didn't know how many souls she'd healed through her songs, how many hearts she'd soothed, how many hopes she'd kindled. Now, though, it seemed like she'd found her place and he was proud of it.

And the three travelers would like to believe in the optimism so much, that one day their journey would bring them what she sung of: of soldiers returning home, of children playing in the fields, and of the day the pain would finally end.


End file.
